Because
by NebThauDragmire
Summary: Through all the years, love could not let him forget, however much pain it caused.


-1**For all of you people who are waiting for the next chapter of Saavedro's Lost FireMarbles, it'll have to wait. I haven't been feeling up to writing humor as of late. That's probably why this jolly little piece floated out of my brain. . .**

Because

"I don't know why I returned so soon. I thought that, perhaps, my years of solitude had hardened me; my years of thought had numbed me to the point where nothing could reach me. That is when I went back to Myst.

My nightmares were plagued with visions of my sons and my wife, Catherine. She was there, still, on Riven, but I had made changes to the Age. It would remain stable for a few years yet. But I couldn't do anything to free her. Not until I put the fears and anger towards my sons to rest.

I linked to Myst late at night. In doing so, I nearly tripped over you, my friend. You were sleeping in the middle of the library floor. I looked over your sleeping form with sadness. You are young, barely sixteen years, and yet flung into a world so different. . . and with no way home. I left you there in peace.

I did not know which Age to choose first. A choice of lesser evils, it seemed. I decided to travel to one of my favorite Ages first: Selentic. I thought that the calm, peaceful air of the world would clear my head. It did indeed, but it seemed that my sons had not touched the place.

Mechanical Age was my next choice. Moving through the fortress, I went through each of my sons' rooms. Sirrus' room surprised me not. It's expensive tapestries, overly decorative tables, and small experimental models were a part of who he was. His room on Myst was similarly furnished. Though, the secret room had been turned into a wine cellar, but why, I didn't know.

It was Achenar's room, however, that opened my eyes the most to my sons' cruelty. The weapons that hung on the walls, the crude decorations. . . but nothing prepared me for what I was to find in the secret room here.

The room was dark. Not dark enough not to see, but dark enough to be unable to see very much. I could see the outline of a switch. Thinking it was a switch for light, I flipped it. I jumped back, startled, as an electrical spark illuminated a cage. Sparks jumped between the bars for a few moments, then stopped, plunging the room back into darkness.

_Torture_. . .

I closed my eyes, nauseated. I took a deep breath to steady my stomach, silently thankful for my unintentional meal skipping. I was then drawn to a box. I had a sinking feeling that opening this box wasn't advisable, but I did so anyway.

Next I knew I was kneeling on the bridge outside the fortress, hurling the meager contents of my stomach into the dark waters.

"A head. . ." I rasped aloud, "A _human _head. . . by the Maker. . ."

It took sometime for me to collect my senses enough for me to shakily stand back on my feet. I stumbled back to the Linking Book, silently praising my lack of motion sickness whilst linking.

Standing back in the library, I was surprised to see it nearly dawn. The sky had the barest tint of light. I walked back outside. Now, I did not want to go to the Stoneship Age. The excuse I gave was that I didn't want to be caught in one of the Age's frequent thunderstorms. In truth, I was afraid. Afraid of what I would find. With the false excuse settled firmly in my mind, I determinedly strode off to Channelwood.

As soon as I linked, I was met with silence. Only the sound of the water pervaded the Age, calming yet foreboding. I was lucky to find the elevator to the top level working, though I believe it had more to do with my friend and less to do with luck.

I mentally prepared myself for what I would encounter. I resolved not to enter Achenar's chambers. I felt that I had seen enough of what he did and what he was capable of. But Sirrus. . . I wanted to believe he was innocent. I had found almost nothing about him. Nothing. . . I wanted to believe I could forgive him.

As the elevator slowed to a stop, I stepped out with relatively high spirits. I had managed to delude myself into thinking that Sirrus had been wronged and that I would find evidence of it here in Channelwood.. Though, as you have said, "Denial is not a river in Egypt", and though I still don't completely understand that phrase, I agree with you.

Entering Sirrus' room, I found it perfectly neat and orderly and not at all threatening. Besides the layer of dust, I found it completely as I had last seen it. I decided to poke through the drawers, assuring myself that I would find evidence of his innocence. I was wrong.

The first drawer I looked in contained a curved knife. It looked like it had never been used. Picking it up, I ran my finger down the blade. It was dull. It had been used, but meticulously cleaned. I shivered, putting it back and silently closing the drawer. I pulled open another drawer. Wine bottles. _Empty _wine bottles. A vision flashed in my mind's eye of my son, sitting here, drowning whatever guilt he felt in bottles of wine, carefully transported from Mechanical Age. . .

Frantic, I pulled open yet another drawer. Needles and syringes. And poison. I picked up one of the bottles. It wasn't poison as I had first though, but a painkiller. A very, very strong painkiller. The bottle slipped from my fingers, shattering loudly on the polished wood floor.

"Sirrus. . ." I murmured. My mind had blanked, unable to form any though, unable to wrap around this new concept.

In my short travels, I have managed to discover quite a few things. Achenar hurt others for gain. He tortured them. . . killed them. . . all for power. Sirrus wanted wealth, and he did everything in his power to obtain it, but his overactive imagination most likely created nightmares, hence the alcohol and the painkillers. My sons. . . were the worst kinds of people you could ever hope to meet."

I had told this all to my friend, who listened with patience. She, too, knew these things, but from an outsider's perspective. She didn't know what it was like, to watch two people you love with all the world grow up and commit horrible acts while you remain oblivious. . . finding it out later was unbearable.

"And I have discovered something else, my friend. No matter how much time passes, no matter how much I try to pretend that it doesn't affect me. . . it will, always. I will always remember. In every spare moment, in every idle second, I will remember."

"Why?"

"Because they are my sons. . . and I love them."


End file.
